


Living Together Separately United

by Jaune_Chat



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 5 Acts Meme, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied Past Abuse, Implied Relationships, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, They're British - They Don't Talk About Feelings, Voyeurism, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Field work is not glamorous. Nor is it, unless you're of a certain temperament, fun. It sounds on paper like the kind of thing that would make a marvelous action thriller movie, or perhaps a good novel.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Well, in a novel one can dispense with stakeouts and endless waiting in a few sentences, in a movie, with a short montage. But there's no way around that in real life.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Together Separately United

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



> Written for [Five Acts](http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/250594.html) for [aurilly](http://aurilly.livejournal.com/224061.html?thread=2082365) for the acts: Sharing a bed, Pretending to be together.

Field work is not glamorous. Nor is it, unless you're of a certain temperament, fun. It sounds, on paper, like the kind of thing that would make a marvelous action thriller movie, or perhaps a good novel.

Well, in a novel one can dispense with stakeouts and endless waiting in a few sentences, in a movie, with a short montage. But there's no way around that in real life. If you're required to wait for three days for your informant to make contact, you wait three days. In a cheap hotel room, because MI6 won't pay for a luxury hotel when you're meeting someone's low-level flunky and have to maintain cover that you're just as down-on-your-luck as him. 

Nor, if the agents who set up the job presented you as part of a couple, did you get separate rooms.

"Lovely."

It was that single word, delivered in an exceptionally dry tone of voice with a carefully arched eyebrow that managed to display disapproval at their superiors without any additional verbiage that endeared Q to Eve.

For that word alone, she didn't insist he sleep in the chair.

\--

Q was, to his additional credit, not a restless sleeper, or a snorer. Aside from the extra body heat, Eve could almost forget she was crammed into a bed with a co-worker. Their only concern was the waiting. And the boredom.

\--

Three days turned into three weeks. MI6 always had enough paperwork to keep them busy, but man or woman did not live on bureaucracy alone. Conversation and the occasional bottle of wine, along with whatever half-incomprehensible soap operas and cheap made-for-TV movies were their only entertainment. That, and the bed. Eve didn't think she'd been able to catch up on so much sleep since she'd been a baby.

\--

Neither bared their souls; the habits of training too strong to break. But Eve does learn a few things, all of them nothing she would ever repeat to Q's face. He sleeps so still and rigid because he's afraid of touching her. Not the simple fear of respect for her person, nor the fact that she's a trained agent with a gun. Afraid she might kick him out of the bed. Afraid she'd make him sleep alone. She never could feel comfortable asking why.

In the morning light, she can see silvery scars along one shoulder blade. After days of contemplation, she decides, in her mind, that it's from a whip. It's not clean enough to be a cut from either surgery or accident, not random enough to be a sports injury. She wonders what he's made of the round burn mark on her lower back.

Q sleeps soundly beside her, looking too young without glasses or the arrogant expression of his skill. He gives her too many long hours of study for free, eyes never flickering behind closed lids, giving away no sign that he could tell she was watching him, learning about him, passing the time.

She reciprocates when she turns in early, letting him stay up late to play on his laptop, breathing slowly and evenly as he crawls in beside her, still and silent for a long time.

It's halfway into the third week when she grabs his hand after he crawls in and wraps it around her stomach, pulling him close up against her back. The nights are cool, and he's solid warmth against her. Q freezes purely in surprise before rearranging himself more comfortably, face half-burrowed into her back, his hand possessively around her ribs, his arm warm against the skin of her belly.

\--

They sleep away almost the entire day wrapped up like that, and nearly miss the call that their informant had finally screwed up the courage to meet them. The mission is finished in two hours, and they're on their way back home before nightfall.

\--

It's an ungodly hour when they finally arrive in London, their reports long preceding them. For once, no extended debriefing is needed. They've caught up with paperwork for the next three months.

"Be seeing you then," Q said, picking up his luggage and running his hand along the strap.

"You close?" Eve asked, eyebrow raised.

A flick of his fingers and a shake of his head. "Got someone taking care of my cats. Should get back to them."

"Not expecting you at this hour, are they?"

Another shake of his head, guardedly optimistic.

"I'm close by. Come have a bit of lie-in, yeah?"

Q falls in next to her, side-by-side, and Eve reaches out for his hand as they leave the airport.


End file.
